


A Tail of Excuses

by Ivy_Of_The_North



Series: Malec Domestic Drabbles [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: A Spider May Or May Not Be Involved, Alec Lightwood Is So Done, All Pretty Random TBH, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, How Do I Tag, How They Came To Adopt Chairman Meow, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Making Excuses For His Boyfriend When Said Boyfriend Accidentally Knocks Himself Unconscious, Protective Magnus Bane, The Ghost Of Mr Catkins, that about sums it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 03:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivy_Of_The_North/pseuds/Ivy_Of_The_North
Summary: Domestic Malec. A spider may or may not be involved.Or: Magnus wakes up to a series of strange noises and goes to investigate.





	A Tail of Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some light-hearted fluff. And this is what happened. My mind is a weird place, but I hope you enjoy it! Kudos and Comments are always welcome and any mistakes are my own!  
> I'm over on insta as @the.shadowhunted so come say hi! Apparently live tweeting is now a thing too, so shall we say #ATailOE - I'd love to see what you make of it!

Magnus awoke to loud cacophony of noises, each one more bizarre than the last. He paused amongst his silk sheets, rather disorientated, before running a quick hand through his hair, blinking against the warm light of morning.

The first noise sounded as though something had been thrown with great force. And aggression. And promptly broken apart into lots of little pieces. If it was one of his Ming vases he would be _most_ unhappy.

The second distinguishable noise sounded like the wailing of a cat… whose tail had just been stepped upon. Yes, Magnus knew what that sounded like. It was the reason why, since the 1950s, he no longer allowed any cats into his home. And the reason that he had a little known about scar on his left ankle; three thin lines, curved with a feline’s flourish. Mr Catkins had been _immediately_ banished. After Magnus had bandaged his tail.

The third was the sound of a scuffle, followed by a loud thump. Then something else shattered. Then there was another scream. And Magnus decided it was probably time to investigate.

He looked over to find the other side of the bed empty, the sheets flung to the side. Reaching a hand out, he found the mattress was still relatively warm. His sleep-addled mind quickly came up with three possible scenarios:

  1. A shax demon had managed to bypass his wards (a near impossibility, he was High Warlock of Brooklyn for a REASON), and Alexander was valiantly fighting it off with his bare hands (his bow and quiver sat unused, propped against the wardrobe).
  2. A troupe of nixies had decided to break into his lair and have an early morning rave. It would not be the first time. Though the lack of music made this unlikely.
  3. Mr Catkins had returned. And he was out for blood.



Either which way, he figured that his boyfriend required his immediate assistance.

After flinging on his dressing gown, he summoned a small blue flame to his right palm and moved cautiously to the bedroom door. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for the door handle. He flung it open.

“WHO DARES DISTURB-“ he stopped halfway through his dramatic, and frequently rehearsed, tirade to take stock of the scene before him.

Clearly the threat was much more severe than he had previously imagined.

Before him, there appeared to be the shattered remains of two coffee mugs, scattered in all directions. With his toe, he nudged a particularly large white shard of ceramic, which had come to rest in his path. Hot liquid was pooled around the carnage, giving off delicate tendrils of steam; what he had initially, rather grimly, assumed was blood appeared, on second consideration, to be coffee. He let out a short, relieved breath at that.

One of his Persian rugs, however, lay wonky and, to Magnus’s growing horror, appeared to be soaking up some of said coffee; he quickly flicked his wrist to remedy the situation, the rug rolling up with striking velocity and flying into a far corner of the room. The azure sofa was tipped over, the cushions propelled off it. The lamp that usually sat on the side table beside said sofa was tilted at an alarming angle, one of the table legs snapped in two.

And in the midst of it all was Alexander Lightwood; lying flat-out, face upwards, hair mussed. His expression, unreadable.

“Alexander, what are you doing on the floor?” he settled on the practical question, as soon as he deemed the current situation as under control. There appeared to be no other traces of magic in the apartment, threatening or otherwise.

As soon as he clocked Magnus, Alec attempted to regain some dignity by sitting up. But then promptly, with a groan, lay back down again, clutching at the back of his head. When he drew his hand away, to Magnus’s alarm, there was blood.

Magnus quickly rushed over to his boyfriend, kneeling in front of him. He brought his hand, pulsing with blue healing magic, to Alec’s crown, whilst surveying the rest of the room, looking for the intruder. But nobody else appeared to be there. Alexander had clearly, bravely defended Magnus from whatever evil had tried to gain access to his loft whilst he was in the vulnerable confines of sleep.

“My hero,” Magnus stated. Filled with pride, he drew Alec into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest.

Alec remained silent. Of course, Alexander was never one to brag. Magnus drew back, but kept his hands on Alec’s shoulders. He searched his boyfriend’s face for any signs of lasting pain. “What was it? Shax, Nixies or malicious cat?”

As soon as he made to answer, Magnus brought a finger to his lips and shushed him. “No. No. No. Don’t speak. Take that question as rhetorical. You may have concussion.”

Alec groaned again, batting off Magnus’s fluttering hands, and lay back down.

“Of course,” Magnus said, summoning a pillow immediately. “You have head trauma. You stay there.”

He placed the pillow beneath Alec’s head. Alec lay still, eyes up to the ceiling. A blush was beginning to creep over his cheekbones as Magnus got up, elegantly clicked his fingers to summon a cup of camomile, and placed it on the floor next to him.

Magnus nodded his head in approval at his own administrations. Catarina didn’t know what she was talking about. Magnus would make an excellent nurse.

He got up, swirled his hands around, and the room quickly righted itself, the mess vanishing with a flash of blue sparks. He placed his hands on his hips, nodding again in approval of his ability to handle such situations, before marching quickly from room to room, flinging doors open and–

“Magnus?” Alec called from the other room.

His tone was as unreadable as his expression had been. Magnus quickly rushed back out of the bathroom he had been surveying and into the loft’s main area. Alec remained in the same position as he had left him in some five minutes before.

“Yes? Do you need another pillow? More tea? Does it still hurt? Tell me,” he demanded, concerned.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you,” the blush remained. “But… What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? Whatever attacked you could still be in the loft. I need to go and kill it.” He added a little bit of fire to that last part. Nobody harmed Alexander. Nobody.

Alec gave a little puff of air, but remained where he was. Magnus took tentative steps towards him.

“Alexander, can you move? Are you… I don’t know, feeling any symptoms of temporary paralysis? Did something bite you? Because I have dragon scales and herbs that can help with that. Maybe I should call Cat?”

Alec did sit up then, much to Magnus’s relief, and gestured for Magnus to come closer to him. Magnus immediately went down into a crouch, reaching for his boyfriend’s hands. “What ails you, Alexander? Let me help. Use your words.”

Alec shot him a rather self-effacing smile, before averting his eyes.

“Mortification,” he mumbled.

“What?” Magnus asked, concern brewing again, his insides twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he had suffered brain damage. Why hadn’t he called Cat sooner?

Just as he was reaching for his phone, Alec spoke again. “Mags. I think I knocked myself out.”

Magnus stilled, moving his eyes from his phone to Alexander’s _very_ red face. “You did what?”

Alec groaned and moved to bury his face in Magnus’s neck. He felt, rather than heard, what Alec said next, as a series of breaths upon his skin.

“Alexander, I didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid.”

Alec nuzzled further into him, but raised his voice to audible levels. “There was a spider.”

“There was– Well how big was it?”

Alec reached a hand out, moving his thumb and forefinger as far away from each other as possible. Magnus couldn’t help but smile then, though he tried to conceal it by burying his face in Alec’s hair.

“Alexander,” he pressed, teasing now.

Alec huffed, and he repositioned his hand until there was about two inches of air between thumb and finger.

“That does sound terrifying,” Magnus said, trying to keep his tone as gentle and empathetic as possible. He knew he was failing miserably.

“It was one of those fast ones. And the way it moved,” he shivered in Magnus’s arms. “It was just _unnatural_. The spawn of Satan himself.”

“So my distant cousin, then?”

Alec did huff a laugh then, untangling himself from Magnus and sitting back.

“You’re much prettier,” he said, still blushing.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “That’s high praise indeed.”

Alec grinned. Magnus was glad that his encounter with the arachnid had not left him permanently traumatised.

“And where, pray tell, is my dear relative now?” Magnus asked, smirking.

“I hit it with one of the coffee mugs,” Alec said, looking alarmingly pleased with himself. “Now it can’t crawl all over us when we’re asleep.” As if this was something that spiders took great joy in doing on a regular basis.

Magnus shook his head, still smiling. “Alexander. You hunt demons for a living.”

“Yes,” Alec huffed. “But I can _see_ demons. I can see them coming. Spiders creep up on you. And they’re so quick. And if you lose sight of it even for a moment, that’s it. You’ve had it. It’s clocked you. It knows where you are. Who you are. It’s seen into your soul with its beady little eyes. And it’s only a matter of time before it returns for you.” His eyes got progressively wider as he rambled.

Magnus admitted that he had a point.

“That’s all very well, Alexander, but what was that noise?”

Alec blanched. “What noise?”

“The... Let’s call it a scream.”

“You heard that?” he asked sheepishly, rubbing his neck with his hand.

“Mmm” Magnus grinned. “It was hard to miss.”

Alec seemed to think for a second. “It was the cat,” he settled on, speaking slowly.

“The cat? What cat?”

“You just said there was a cat. Before. I distinctly recall something about a malicious cat.”

“Mr Catkins?” Alec nodded. Magnus smiled. He waved his hand behind his back, silently portalling a cat from one of New York’s many animal shelters into his kitchen. It was a few seconds before the rather put-out tabby wandered into the room with them. Alec turned around at the soft sound of claws hitting the wooden floor.

“Wait, you do have a cat?” he asked, confused.

Magnus almost facepalmed right then and there. Here he was, being a nice, considerate boyfriend. Giving Alexander an out.

The cat wandered over to Magnus, and he picked it up, cooing. “Did Alexander step on your tail, Chairman? Because that’s what _it sounded like_.”

Alec stifled a laugh, finally catching on to what Magnus was doing. “Yes. And I would like to apologise to–“

“Chairman Meow,” Magnus supplied.

“I thought his name was Mr Catkins?”

“Yes, well I’m changing it,” Magnus said, then added in a side-whisper, placing his hands over Chairman’s ears, “Mr Catkins would be seventy by now. I thought it might have been his ghost.”

Alec nodded as if this made complete sense. “Well then, Chairman I–“

“Meow” Magnus said.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Chairman _Meow_.”

“Oh right, I see.” Alec glanced apologetically at the cat. “Chairman Meow, _I_ , _Alexander Gideon Lightwood_ , am truly, truly, sorry for– Um.”

“Stepping on your tail,” Magnus side-whispered.

“Right, stepping on your tail. I promise that I will never step on your tail again, ever, so that you do not go berserk–“

“Good word,” Magnus whispered. Alec shot him a glare. Magnus waved that he should continue.

“So that you do not go berserk and destroy Magnus’s lair. So that you don’t trip me up, so that I don’t fall over and knock myself out. So yes. I am truly sorry, Chairman Meow, for the distress I no doubt caused you, and I promise that it shall never happen again.” He nodded, satisfied with his apology.

“So, let me get this straight,” Magnus said, suddenly all seriousness. “You, being the loving boyfriend that you are, were bringing me coffee in bed.” Alec nodded. “You then saw a rather large, rather – shall we say – _imposing_ spider, heading for our bedroom. Where _I_ was quietly sleeping. _Defenceless_. _Vulnerable_.” Alec nodded again, a small smile playing at his lips.

“So you took it upon yourself to valiantly slay the beast using the only tools available to you.”

Magnus got up then, still clutching the newly acquired cat, and began to pace. “Having vanquished the evil that was lurking in my loft, my _sanctuary of peace_ , you turned back around only to find that the Chairman, having heard the ruckus, had come to investigate. BUT,” he said, holding a finger up. “Because the Chairman is a master of stealth, and because you were still recovering from your trying ordeal with the arachnid, you did not hear his approach.”

Alec’s shoulders were moving with barely repressed laughter at this point.

“This _stealth_ meant that you did not see the Chairman in time. You stepped on his tail. By accident. It was nobody’s fault. The Chairman wailed, _as was his right_ when confronted in such a manner, which caused you, my dear Alexander, to stumble back against the couch, tipping it over. The rug, too, was in your way (an awful trip hazard that I will remove to prevent future injuries). You fell, with assured grace and dignity, only to have your beautifully delicate head connect with my hardwood floor. It would be enough to daze anyone. I will replace said floor with carpet in the imminent future... Then, in a fit of enraged grief at seeing you thus injured, the Chairman took it upon himself to eat half a table leg. That was how aggrieved he was to see you hurt.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face Alec, who was still on the floor. “Does that about sum it up?”

Alec stood up, removed the Chairman from Magnus’s arms and deposited him gently on the floor. He cupped Magnus’s face between his palms and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. “That,” he murmured, breath ghosting over Magnus’s lips, “is _exactly_ what happened.”

“Well,” Magnus said, still smirking. “Now that the evil arachnid has been destroyed, I think it may be safe to return to bed.” He saw Alec swallow, their faces still only inches apart.

It was at that moment that the Chairman decided to brush up against Alec’s legs.

This time there was _no_ question as to where the scream came from.

**Author's Note:**

> New Note: Can I just say how amazed I am by the response to this?! I have read all of the comments with a huge grin on my face, and it doesn't appear to be going anywhere any time soon. Honestly, I'm just so grateful to each of you that reads this- it means so much to me that people have enjoyed it. I'm a bit speechless really- thank you x


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